


Sipping Poison

by TVTime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Champagne, Childhood Memories, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Christmas songs, Danny Wants Ethan and Jackson to be Happy, Death, Depressed Ethan, Depression, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Resilience, Emotional strength, Ethan Moves to London, Ethan's POV, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fireworks, First Christmas Together, First Kiss, Flirting, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Helpful Jackson, Humor, Hurt Ethan, Jackson is in London, Jethan Christmas, Jethan New Years, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, Kanima Venom, Kanima-Werewolf Hybrid Jackson, Kind Ethan, Late Night Conversations, London, M/M, Memories, Memories of Dead Family, Narcissism, Narcissistic Jackson, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Sad Holidays, Sarcasm, Sexual Tension, Strong Ethan, Survivor Ethan, Werewolf Jackson, Werewolf Lore, Werewolves, depressed jackson, jethan, memories of abuse, original lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11963433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVTime/pseuds/TVTime
Summary: A month after Aiden's death and a week before Christmas, Ethan moves to London to start over. Danny insists he look up Jackson while he's there.They sipped their drinks and made casual conversation. Everything was going fine untilRockin Around the Christmas Treestarted playing through the pub’s sound system. It had been Aiden’s favorite Christmas song when they were kids. As they had grown older, Aiden had shown less outward exuberance when it came on, but it had never failed to lift his spirits and bring a smile to his face.“My parents are in Manchester.” Jackson sipped his beer, visibly tensing.“That’s nice,” Ethan muttered, only partially aware of the shift in Jackson’s mood as the pain and raw emotion that had lurked just beneath the surface for the past month came sweeping out into the open. His stomach roiled and his throat closed as he stood on shaky legs. “Bathroom,” he called, hustling away from the table.He cursed under his breath as he reached the facilities and discovered they were single occupancy with three people already ahead of him in line. He turned toward the wall and closed his eyes as a flood of memories washed over him.





	1. Cedar Memories

Ethan lifted his suitcase onto the curb and set it down on its hard plastic wheels. It was light, even by human standards. This was the fifth time Ethan had moved in the last month, and each time he found himself taking fewer and fewer things with him to his new destination. If London didn’t work out, he would probably trade his clunky, half-empty suitcase for a duffel bag. 

He rolled the suitcase to a stop in front of a towering stone building with _The Lancaster_ emblazoned in gold over the huge revolving glass doors. _Ooh, how posh._ That’s what the taxi driver had muttered in a snide tone under his breath, when Ethan had given him the address Danny had texted him.

Ethan drew a weary breath as he gripped the cold metal bar and pushed his way into the building. He had never met Jackson, but his reputation proceeded him, and Ethan was beginning to regret agreeing to look up Danny’s _posh_ friend. _Whittemore_ – hell, just his name sounded pretentious.

The doorman, a balding middle-aged man with a shaggy mustache, raised his head as Ethan entered the lobby. Residual boredom hung in the air around his shoulders, but a tinge of apprehension partially displaced it as he looked Ethan up and down. Did he sense that Ethan was dangerous? Had decades in the hustling, bustling doorman industry cultivated a keen set of instincts and an eye for unlawful predators? Or did Ethan simply look like someone who was going to disrupt his morning crossword puzzle?

“I’m here to see Jackson Whittemore. I believe he’s in _flat_ 903.” Ethan was pretty sure that was the correct use of the term flat, but he’d listen for whatever Jackson or the doorman called it to see if there was a preferred term. Perhaps people as posh as Jackson didn’t live in common flats.

The man grunted and set his newspaper and pen on the desk in front of him, a deep frown creasing his already wrinkled face.

“I’ll find it myself.” Ethan turned and walked toward the elevator.

“Ya can’t use the lift without a card.” The man waved the gray plastic rectangle out in front of him as he trudged from around his station and shuffled toward Ethan. He got halfway before he clicked his tongue and snapped his gaze back toward his desk. “Damn. I forgot to ring him. I can’t let ya up without authorization.”

Ethan sighed and returned to the desk, leaning on it and glancing at the crossword while he waited for the man to amble back to his post and place the call.

“Romulus,” Ethan said once the man had hung up. 

The doorman’s balding pate furrowed as he arched bushy eyebrows at Ethan. “What?”

“Number twenty-nine down, ‘Remus and.’” Ethan tapped his finger on the newspaper and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s Romulus. They were twins. According to mythology they founded Rome.”

The doorman’s eyes lit up and he snatched his paper off the desk with unexpected speed. “How do ya spell that?” he asked, pen at the ready.

Once the clue had been filled in, he accompanied Ethan to the elevators and swiped his card over the wall-mounted sensor. 

“903 is on the ninth floor,” he said as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

“I had a feeling,” Ethan answered, stepping inside.

“That’d be the tenth for you Yanks.” He winked as the doors slid shut.

“Huh?” Ethan looked at the panel of buttons. Sure enough the lobby was labeled _G_ with _1_ above that where _2_ would normally have been. Ethan noted the curiosity and pressed _9._ A little while later the doors opened onto a hallway with plush blue carpeting and cherry wood doors set in ornate frames and accented by gold sconces. 

Ethan cautiously inhaled, trying to acclimate to the cocktail of new scents. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered making a conscious effort, but if he was going to be living here, he needed to get used to the baseline smell quickly so he would recognize if anything was off in the future. He found _903_ and rapped on the thick door, listening as the heartbeat and footsteps on the other side drew closer. A metal bolt clinked in its chassis and the door opened with a muted creak.

“So you’re Danny’s ex?” the guy asked with a smirk on his very handsome face as he leaned in the doorway.

Ethan had seen pictures of Jackson, but as hot as he had been in some of them – especially the numerous shirtless ones of him and Danny at the beach over the years on vacations – the photos hadn’t done him justice. He had vivid green eyes, a dusting of light freckles across his nose and cheeks, and a strong, chiseled jawline. His expensive, stylish clothes were just snug enough to hint at a muscular physique. 

“Ethan.” Ethan held out his hand and gave Jackson his most disarming smile, the one he seldom bothered to trot out these days. 

“Jackson.” Jackson took Ethan’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze, his bright eyes twinkling as he returned Ethan’s smile with a megawatt grin of his own that made Ethan twitch in places that had been all but dormant for the last month.

“We, uh, _I_ came to London once a couple years ago.” Ethan pulled his hand away from Jackson’s and wrapped it around the handle of his suitcase. “Didn’t have much time for sightseeing.”

Jackson frowned and stepped back, opening the door and motioning Ethan in. “Well I’m not doing that shit with you.”

“Wasn’t asking you to.” Ethan rolled his suitcase over Jackson’s threshold with a light thump and looked around. “Nice place.”

“Uh _yeah._ ” Jackson’s handsome features contorted into a mask of sarcastic condescension. 

Ethan cocked his head and returned the look. “I can just go to a hotel until I find a place of my own.”

Jackson smirked and folded his arms. “Could you afford that?”

Ethan laughed without humor. “Yeah, I can afford pretty much whatever I want. I’m only here as a favor to Danny. He’s worried about you.”

“ _Me?_ ” Jackson’s nostrils flared. “He practically begged me to take _you_ in. He said you just lost your...” Jackson trailed off as Ethan glowered at him, daring him to finish that sentence.

“Then I guess we’re both fine, and Danny was wrong. I’ll go.” Ethan tightened his grip on his suitcase and moved to leave, but Jackson stepped into his path.

“He’ll be pissed if I let you leave.”

“Not my problem,” Ethan answered. Jackson might see Danny again, but Ethan doubted he ever would.

“Stay.” Jackson’s hand landed on Ethan’s arm, and a jolt of cool energy buzzed across Ethan’s skin. “We’re both omegas. We’ll be safer together.”

Ethan growled under his breath and pulled his arm away. “I can take care of myself.”

“Really? From what I hear you’ve never had to.”

Ethan’s claws burst from his fingertips and it took all his willpower not to slash Jackson’s arrogant, albeit pretty, face. If Jackson weren’t Danny’s best friend he’d already have been lying on the ground bleeding.

“Calm down, man. Let’s try this for a couple nights and see how it goes.”

“Lonely?” Ethan laced as much derision into his voice as he could.

“No.” A muscle in Jackson’s jaw twitched, and Ethan didn’t need to be a werewolf to know he was lying.

Danny had said Jackson moved to London because his father had gotten a job here, and yet Jackson’s was the only fresh scent in the room; it didn’t smell like he’d even had any visitors recently, much less like someone else was living here with him. “Where are you parents?” Ethan asked, this time keeping his tone neutral. 

“None of your business.” Jackson took a breath and unfolded his arms. “Look do you wanna stay or not?”

“Sure.” Ethan gave Jackson a flirtatious smirk and watched for his reaction. “Why don’t you show me the bedroom.”

Jackson huffed a small laugh and rolled his eyes. It was dismissive yet adorable. “I’ll take you to _your_ room.”

Ethan’s room was nice. It was dominated by a large four poster bed draped in a plush white duvet. At the foot of the bed sat a heavy cedar chest for storage. Ethan unclasped the lid and lifted it, inhaling the sweet, woody aroma and being transported back to his parents’ cedar closet as he and Aiden giggled and hid among the winter coats while their older sister, Christy, looked for them and tried to tempt them out with shouts of _olly olly oxen free._

Ethan snapped the lid shut with a thunk, silencing the carefree, childish laughter of his dead siblings. He wouldn’t need to use the chest anyway. The room’s spacious closet, wide dresser, and fancy bureau were more than ample for Ethan’s few belongings. He set his laptop on the dresser and made a mental note to ask Jackson for the wifi password.

The room was painted a soft, neutral blue that was in striking contrast to the bold, bright colors of the contemporary art that adorned the walls. The exuberance of the style had appealed to Ethan in his youth. He used to mess around with watercolors on the weekend with his dad, an amateur painter himself. Ethan shuddered as images of their paintings being burned on an open fire flashed through his mind. It had happened right after his ‘Uncle’ Keith, a traitorous beta, had killed Ethan and Aiden’s mom to become alpha. Their dad and sister, along with every loyal member of the pack, had also died in the struggle. Burning the art and the other cherished possessions of the twins’ family was just another way for Keith to drive home his cruel point: Ethan and Aiden were no longer heirs to their pack; they had become the pack slaves, kept alive only so Keith could access the trust funds they had inherited from their parents.

Ethan took the paintings off the walls and lay them gently in the bottom of the cedar chest. He didn’t like art anymore.

Natural light shone in from the large bay window next to the bed, and Ethan spent a few minutes sitting on the inset bench within the window staring down at the bustling London street below. Picturesque, wrought iron lampposts lined the sidewalk, and pigeons flapped to and fro, pecking at tiny bits of nourishment on the pavement that even Ethan’s enhanced vision couldn’t detect from this high up.

He freshened up in the room’s en suite bathroom. It featured an elegant walk-in shower with multiple showerheads, and a detached clawfoot tub with hot water jets. He looked forward to trying both out over the coming days.

His things put away, Ethan resisted the urge to lie on his bed and sulk. He needed to setup a UK bank account and transfer funds, as well as get a new phone and change service plans. Then he would go shopping for an outfit to wear that night when he went to check out London’s club scene.

He didn’t want to do any of those things; he didn’t want to do _anything._ Those activities simply seemed like things he should do if he wasn’t giving up on life, which he wasn’t. He was a survivor. Just because he didn’t have anyone in the world who gave a shit about him didn’t mean he was going to stop living. His life wasn’t going to end just because it literally had no purpose. Aiden may have been dead, but Ethan...let out a slow breath and collapsed onto the bed.

Maybe he’d just have a nap before he ran his errands. He crawled down the bed and lifted the lid of the cedar chest before burrowing under the covers and closing his eyes. The rich, woodsy scent reminded him of his mom’s winter coat as he and Aiden had nuzzled against her sides while the old pack sang Christmas carols. Maybe Ethan would get a tree this year.

* * *

Ethan’s eyes throbbed with glowing icy heat as they snapped open, and a deeper coldness was wrapped tight around his pounding heart. The spectre of Aiden coughing black blood clung to Ethan’s mind the same way Aiden’s fingers had clung to his back as he drew his final breathes. Aiden faded away, weaker and weaker until he was gone and Ethan was left alone with his pain. He didn’t cry out. He didn’t move a muscle. 

And yet the sound of someone thrashing in bed and whimpering clawed at Ethan’s ears and chilled his blood another few degrees. There were two pounding heartbeats in the flat, and Ethan’s was already slowing.

Jackson awoke with a gasping sob. It was a relief. Ethan was hardly a stranger to listening to people suffer, but he didn’t think that was a good routine to establish with Jackson. He listened as Jackson jumped out of bed, still breathing hard. Then he tried _not_ to listen as Jackson relieved himself in his bathroom and splashed water on his face. 

Ethan wasn’t going back to sleep. It was dark in his room, not completely dark – he hadn’t drawn the curtains before falling asleep, and city lights streamed in from the window beside the bed – but dark enough that it was obviously night, and that meant that Ethan had slept all day.

He tilted his head against the pillow and held his breath as Jackson’s door opened and he strolled through the living room and into the kitchen. The refrigerator opened with a tight whoosh, a drawer squeaked softly on its track, utensils clattered together, metal clanked on metal, and then a crisp _phsst_ signaled that a bottle had been opened. Ethan waited a few seconds and inhaled to determine what Jackson was drinking – beer. 

After weighing his options, Ethan slid out of bed. He liked beer, even though he couldn’t get drunk from it like humans, and he had barely spoken to his host before falling asleep for the day. He’d might as well take this opportunity to get to know Jackson better and to perhaps mitigate what had probably been a rude first impression on his part.

Jackson flinched and snapped his head to the doorway as Ethan entered the kitchen. His foreclaw was poised over the lip of a beer bottle.

“You seriously didn’t hear me coming?” Ethan asked, hands raised in a calming gesture. 

Jackson grunted and retracted his claw. What had he been doing?

“I’m not used to company.”

“What time is it?” 

Jackson pursed his lips and glared before responding. “Did you come in here to ask me that?”

Ethan crossed his arms and glanced over Jackson’s shoulder at the clock on the oven. _1:33am._ Ethan had been asleep for almost fifteen hours. He had been jet-lagged but...

“So, you’re depressed I take it?” Jackson swigged his beer and leaned against the counter.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ethan sniffed the air, noting the emotional signature of Jackson’s scent. “And so are you?”

Jackson tipped his drink back and drained half the bottle before answering. “I guess.”

Ethan turned to leave. There wasn’t anything else to say.

“Wanna make it stop for a bit?”

Ethan paused in the doorway and glanced back at Jackson over his shoulder. “I don’t think I can.”

Jackson must have been hitting on him, suggesting they distract themselves with sex. Objectively it was an appealing offer, but physically...well Ethan’s answer still stood. He hadn’t had much of a sex drive the past month.

“I have a way.” Jackson chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle in a trashcan under the sink.

“Sure, why not?” Getting Jackson naked and messing around with him wouldn’t be the worst way to spend the night even if Ethan didn’t get off from it, although given how absurdly hot Jackson was, maybe he would after all.

Jackson crossed the kitchen, and Ethan peeled off his shirt. He expected to find Jackson in front of him when he was done, but instead Jackson had stopped at the refrigerator. He quirked an eyebrow at Ethan before opening the chrome door and pulling out two more bottles of beer.

“I was tired of that shirt,” Ethan said as he realized he might have misunderstood Jackson’s suggestion. As a born wolf, Ethan had spent his life honing the ability to deceive other werewolves, and the true but misleading statement had slipped out of his mouth with a comfortable ease. The shirt smelled like the airplane and the taxi, and it was time for it to go regardless of anything else. He tucked the shirt into his hip pocket and discreetly tasted the air around Jackson. No change, no arousal. Jackson wasn’t interested, even now that Ethan had taken off his shirt. Oh well, Ethan really didn’t care.

“You might find this gross,” Jackson muttered as he set the bottles on the counter, opened them, and then extended his foreclaw again.

Ethan walked further into the kitchen and studied Jackson’s claw as it hovered in the air over their drinks. It was different from a regular werewolf claw, pointier, more translucent... _wetter._ As Jackson flexed it, a cloudy secretion rolled off the tip and plopped into one of the beer bottles. Jackson held it up to the light as the venom diffused in a murky cloud through the beer.

“So you’re still part kanima. I didn’t know that.” Ethan didn’t like it either. As an inexperienced bitten wolf, Jackson was no threat whatsoever if he turned on Ethan, but as a kanima hybrid he might be legitimately dangerous. 

“Here.” Jackson held the bottle out to Ethan.

Ethan took it warily, half-expecting the gesture to be a ploy, for Jackson to swipe at him with his other hand. He didn’t, and Ethan openly sniffed the drink. His nostrils tingled. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Jackson rolled his eyes as he added a drop of venom to the other bottle. “Help it find a job in the financial sector.”

“I do know a guy.”

Jackson barked out a sharp laugh and clinked the neck of his bottle against Ethan’s before taking a sip. “Go on, try it.”

Ethan set the bottle on the counter and took a step back. “I’m depressed, not suicidal.”

“I’m drinking it.”

“You...made it. You’re immune.”

“Common misconception.” Jackson took another swallow. “It’ll get you drunk.” He shrugged and waved a hand. “Well drunk-like.”

“How?”

“If I clawed you–”

“You’d regret it.” Ethan flashed his eyes.

Jackson rolled his. “It would enter your bloodstream directly and paralyze you for awhile.”

Ethan’s fingers and gums itched, and his muscles tensed, but he resisted the urge to attack.

“But if you swallow a few drops orally it takes longer to enter your bloodstream and you get a weaker dose. Then it acts more like a central nervous system depressor, like alcohol. It’ll slow your reflexes, you’ll get less coordinated, and if you keep drinking you’ll start to get numb in places.”

“Gee, sign me up.”

Jackson smirked at him and took another sip. “But you’ll also get more relaxed and less inhibited, and your head will get foggy. It really does feel like getting drunk. If you take it slow and only have a little, you can even nurse a buzz without getting wasted.”

“I’ve never been drunk.”

“Now’s your chance.” Jackson looked from the bottle on the counter back to Ethan with an expectant expression on his face.

Ethan hesitated. The fact that Jackson was Danny’s best friend carried a fair amount of weight. Just as Ethan would much rather _not_ hurt Jackson for Danny’s sake, it was reasonable to assume Jackson would feel the same way. On the other hand, plenty of people wanted revenge on Ethan and one of them might have gotten to Jackson.

“Are you trying to poison me?”

“What? No!” Jackson looked like he’d been slapped. “I’m actually being nice, asshole.”

“Are you trying to trick me in any way?”

“Fuck you.”

“Just answer.”

Realization flickered across Jackson’s face. He frowned but turned more fully toward Ethan and spoke slowly, making himself an easier read. “I’m not trying to trick you or poison you.”

“Do you know anyone who wants to hurt me?”

Jackson laughed. “Yeah, Isaac Lahey, but fuck him.”

Ethan chuckled and grabbed the drink off the counter. He clinked his bottle against Jackson’s. “To fucking Isaac Lahey!”

Jackson’s face scrunched. “I’m not gonna drink to that.”

“Aww c’mon, he’s hot, even if he is a dickbag.” Ethan snickered and took a tentative first sip of his drink. He still didn’t completely trust Jackson’s motives, but it also didn’t feel like it mattered all that much.

Jackson shrugged and took a draught from his bottle. Did that mean he was implicitly agreeing with Ethan’s assessment of Lahey?

They went to the living room and Ethan dumped his shirt from his pocket onto the ground before taking a seat at the end of couch while Jackson turned on a lamp and tapped through his phone. Music began to play from the device, and after a second it switched to streaming through a network of discreetly placed speakers throughout the room. Jackson kept the volume low, as if inviting conversation, and Ethan remembered that he’d seemed lonely that morning when he’d asked Ethan to stay.

Ethan sighed. His chest was tight and cold, the place behind his eyes stung, and the pit of his stomach was twisted in knots. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to sip his beer and torture himself with memories of Aiden.

“So, what makes London special?” Ethan asked in a light, pleasant tone.

Jackson made an irritated clicking sound in the front of his mouth and shot Ethan an imperious look. “What do I look like a travel brochure?”

Great. Ethan was making small talk he didn’t want to make for the benefit of a complete asshole – but he’d be damned if he was going to let Jackson get the last sassy word in.

“Maybe one of those gay holiday brochures with sexy, shirtless guys on it.”

Jackson’s face cracked into a smile and the effort Ethan was making suddenly felt half worth it.

“I’m not shirtless,” Jackson said.

Ethan smirked at him and gave an innocent shrug. “You could be.”

The corners of Jackson’s mouth twitched, and he tried to hide it behind his beer. After setting the bottle down he shucked his shirt over his head and held his arms out from his body so Ethan could get a good look. “Better?”

“Much,” Ethan answered, playing his part with a smile. He ran his eyes up and down Jackson’s muscular, rippling torso, more out of idle curiosity than actual lust. Jackson was undeniably hot, and if Ethan kept looking maybe something would happen, but for now he didn’t feel anything.

Jackson sniffed the air and his face fell. Ethan had been found out.

“I’m depressed,” Ethan said by way of explanation.

“Oh.” Jackson’s eyes widened. “That’s never happened to me.”

“Congratulations.” Ethan took an irritated swig of his beer. It’s not like he couldn’t get it up. He just didn’t care to.

“No, I mean I’ve never met someone who wasn’t attracted to me.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Nope, I’m everyone’s type,” Jackson answered with a smug grin.

“Must be nice.”

Jackson nodded and sipped his beer.

Ethan huffed and flexed his own shirtless torso. The least Jackson could do was pay back the compliment a little.

“Oh, I’m not into guys at all.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Then why do you keep encouraging it when I hit on you?”

Jackson gave him a confused look. “I’m not encouraging it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, flexing his bicep in the process and tightening his stomach.

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“What? I have a crick in my neck.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.” Jackson shrugged and winked. “If you want to take a picture for later when you’re more in the mood...”

That wasn’t an entirely unappealing proposition, but Ethan gave Jackson an indignant scowl and raised his palm. “I’m good.”

They finished their beers and Jackson got up to get more from the kitchen. Ethan felt the effects beginning to kick in. The back of his throat was numb, and the fuzzy blankness seemed to travel all the way down to the pit of his stomach. It had loosened the knot there and dulled the sharp edges of the ache in Ethan’s chest. 

When Jackson came back he was carrying an open bottle and a closed one. He set the closed bottle in front of Ethan and slid the bottle opener across the coffee table to him. “I don’t want you to think I’m up to something.”

Ethan nodded. He had caught the irritation in Jackson’s tone and knew he was trying to be petty to prove a point. It failed. Ethan was glad Jackson hadn’t served him an open drink. “Thank you,” he answered in a neutral tone as he popped the top off. He rolled the bottle cap around in his fingers and pushed the drink toward Jackson with his other hand. “I’ll have another drop of venom too.”

Jackson scowled at him but flicked his claw out and dribbled a bead of viscous toxin into Ethan’s bottle.

“That still safe? It looked like more.”

“You’ll get drunk faster, but it won’t hurt you.” Jackson turned in his seat and glared at Ethan. “You know just because I have blue eyes doesn’t mean I’m trying to kill you. _You_ should understand that. I’m not watching my back all the time around you.”

“You probably should.” Ethan took a large gulp, barely tasting the beverage as he sought to numb more of the pain. “And this has nothing to do with your eyes or you personally. I just have a lot of enemies and we barely know each other. I’d treat you the same way with gold eyes.”

“Did you just imply you were going to attack me?” Jackson’s tone was challenging. His claws extended around his beer bottle, and his scent became more reptilian _and_ more lupine. 

“I guess that was the implication.” Ethan turned his bare chest toward Jackson and held eye contact. “But I’m not going to. I’m just saying in general you shouldn’t trust werewolves you hardly know, and yeah I specifically can be...monsterous sometimes. I’m not going to attack you, but I could.”

Jackson’s lips pressed together in a mocking line, and his claws retracted. “You’re so full of shit. Danny said I could trust you, and you don’t seem like a psychotic monster to me.”

Ethan smirked at him and flashed his eyes. “That’s because I’m a rational monster.”

Jackson opened his mouth and Ethan was ready for his retort, but instead the sarcasm fell away from his features and he licked his lips. “Do you ever dream about the things you did?”

Oh. This was about Jackson’s nightmares. Ethan softened the look on his face and kept his tone neutral. “Sometimes, but mostly I dream about” –he took a gulp of beer– “my brother. Sometimes my other family, but it’s been awhile since I lost them.”

“How long?”

Ethan frowned but answered. “Five years. Me and Aiden were thirteen. Then last month...”

“Yeah, I know what happened last month,” Jackson said quietly, and for the first time since he and Ethan had met, there was kindness in his voice.

Ethan nodded in appreciation and they sipped their beers in silence for a few minutes. Ethan was getting lightheaded and relaxed. He felt better and it made him want to help Jackson too. “Sometimes I relive the moments that I killed people, or dream that I...you know, didn’t.”

“Does it get easier” Jackson asked, anguish clouding his green eyes.

Ethan shook his head. “Not easier, but familiar. It’s like how I have to get used to Aiden being gone. It’s not gonna hurt any less, but I’ll get used to it eventually.”

“So you’re saying I just have to accept I’m a murderer.” Jackson let out a ragged breath and finished his beer. Ethan stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could get up.

“No, our situations are different. You have to accept that you’re _not_ a murderer. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.” 

“What I did–”

“You weren’t in control.” Ethan squeezed Jackson’s arm.

“I begged for the Bite. If I hadn’t, none of it would have happened. And I only became a kanima because of who I was, because of what I was. _I_ was the monster. The Bite just brought it out.”

“Everyone has a dark side.”

“I don’t know if I have a good side,” Jackson answered.

“Seems like you do.”

“Like you said, we barely know each other.”

“Let’s have another drink and change that.” Ethan hauled Jackson to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist. 

They trudged to the kitchen with their bare sides pressed together, warm skin clinging to warm skin. Ethan zoned out and blinked as he found himself standing in front of the refrigerator with his fingers tracing over Jackson’s abs.

Jackson laughed and leaned into Ethan. His breath was warm on Ethan’s ear as he spoke. “I toldja I was your type.”

Ethan’s cock pulsed with interest and they both stared down at the bulge in Ethan’s pants. Ethan let go of Jackson’s stomach and adjusted himself, pressing the heel of his palm against his slightly swollen equipment. “It’s only a semi.”

“Yeah, right.” Jackson rolled his eyes and brushed his hip against Ethan’s as he got two more beers out of the refrigerator. 

Ethan chuckled and shrugged. “You can feel it if you want.”

“Gosh, what a generous offer.”

“What can I say? I’m a giver.” Ethan winked at Jackson. “Are you a receiver?”

Jackson scoffed and walked out of the room carrying their drinks, and it might have been Ethan’s imagination, but there seemed to be an extra sway in his step. Regardless, Ethan was pushing the limits of ‘semi’ as he followed Jackson back to the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this little little prequel Jethan in anticipation of them returning to the show. I might leave it at this with everything else just implied to have led up to the relationship they’re in as of season 6B, or I might do a few more chapters with them getting closer and eventually entering a relationship - likely also with smut.
> 
> I’d really appreciate some feedback on what you thought of the story in general and I’d be very interested to hear if you like the current stopping place or if you’d prefer to see things more explicitly explored between them in additional chapters.
> 
> Readers of my Ethisaac series [Iron Claws and Fragile Hearts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8091622/chapters/18542080) may have noticed that Ethan’s backstory with regard to his childhood is the same in this story, and indeed it is. You can assume all the details discussed in Iron Claws chapter 35 about what happened to his and Aiden’s family happened to the Ethan in this story too. Likewise, you can assume that the extra little details in this story – Ethan and Aiden playing hide-and-seek with Christy in their parents’ cedar closet, Ethan painting with his dad and singing Christmas carols with his mom, etc. – are also all things Ethan in Iron Claws did in his childhood.


	2. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a holiday-themed chapter, but Ethan and Jackson are both miserable at this point in their lives, so this isn’t a happy Christmas story; this is however a story about hope. Ethan is profoundly depressed but also extremely resilient, and he’s going to get through this. Jackson’s been spinning his wheels, but he’s coping too, and now they have each other, so – hope.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
_It may be your last_  
_Next year we may all be living in the past_  
_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
  
_No good times like the olden days_  
_Happy golden days of yore_  
_Faithful friends who were dear to us_  
_Will be near to us no more_  
  
_From now on, we'll have to muddle through somehow_  
_So have yourself a merry little Christmas now_  
  
**~"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" ~ Excerpt of original lyrics**

  
  


**Chapter 2: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas**

“That’ll be eight thirty-two,” the bartender said as she slid two pints of beer across the bar.

Ethan handed her a twenty pound note. As she turned to the register to complete the transaction, Jackson extended his foreclaw and dripped venom into their drinks. 

She gave Ethan his change, but let out a surprised breath as her gaze alighted on the beers. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, eying the dark clouds floating in the their drinks. “There must have been something in the glasses. I’ll get you some new ones.”

“No, it–”

Ethan cut Jackson off with a hand on his arm as he reached for the pints. 

“Thank you,” Ethan said to the bartender, leaving a tip on the bar as she took the beers to replace them. He shook his head at Jackson and whispered to him below the range of human hearing, “You have to be more discreet, man. Normal people aren’t okay with mysterious substances floating in their drinks.”

“I am discreet.” Jackson glowered at him.

“You just whipped it out in public.”

“My _claw,_ ” Jackson replied indignantly.

Ethan grinned innocently at him. “Yeah, what else would I mean?”

Jackson rolled his eyes and they took their replacement beverages to a booth in the corner of the pub. Once they had settled in, Jackson re-extended his claw, keeping it obscured by his hand as he hovered it over one of the glasses. “May I poison our drinks now?” 

Ethan leaned back in his seat and smirked. “Knock yourself out.”

“If I do, you’ll have to carry me home.” Jackson winked at him and dripped venom into the amber liquid, gently swirling the glass to defuse it. He slid the murky brew across the table to Ethan and repeated the process with his own. 

“I suppose I could manage that,” Ethan answered, injecting a playful lilt into his voice. 

It was Ethan’s third day in London, and he and Jackson had already slipped into a comfortable pattern of flirtatious banter. Jackson hadn’t revised his claim that he was straight, and Ethan hadn’t found any signs of arousal to indicate otherwise, so apparently Jackson simply enjoyed the attention. That was fine with Ethan. Flirting with Jackson was fun in a way that nothing else had been for the past month since Aiden’s death. Besides, Ethan’s grief was still too fresh for actual sex to be appealing. Harmless flirting that wouldn’t lead anywhere was exactly what Ethan needed. 

They spent the next several minutes sipping their drinks and making casual conversation. Everything was going fine until _Rockin Around the Christmas Tree_ started playing through the pub’s sound system. It had been Aiden’s favorite Christmas song when they were kids. As they had grown older, Aiden had shown less outward exuberance when it came on, but it had never failed to lift his spirits and bring a smile to his face.

“My parents are in Manchester,” Jackson remarked, sipping his beer and visibly tensing.

“That’s nice,” Ethan muttered, only partially aware of the shift in Jackson’s mood as the pain and raw emotion that had lurked just beneath the surface for the past month came sweeping out into the open. Ethan’s stomach roiled and his throat closed as he stood up on shaky legs.

Jackson furrowed his brow and parted his lips. He was about to speak, but Ethan shook his head and hustled away from the table. 

“Bathroom,” he called over his shoulder.

Ethan cursed under his breath as he reached the facilities only to discover that they were single occupancy and three people were already ahead of him in line. He turned toward the wall and closed his eyes as a flood of holiday memories washed over him: bonfires in the woods with his pack; decorating the tree with his family; running around the local mall with Aiden; baking gingerbread cookies with Christy; making ornaments with his dad; and wrapping gifts with his mom. The childhood memories were soothing if bittersweet, and he indulged as many more as he could – holiday plays at school; sledding with Aiden and Christy; sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night with Aiden to try to catch Santa; drinking coco from thermoses on hayrides with the pack – but his thoughts inevitably darkened as he recalled the Christmases after Christy, their parents, and the loyal members of their pack had been murdered in the uprising: exchanging solitary presents with Aiden; pulling wire hooks out of Aiden’s skin after Keith and the pack had decided it would be fun to make him spend the afternoon as a living Christmas tree; scrambling with Aiden to complete chores before Keith’s holiday party and then spending the evening waiting on the pack like slaves. Things had improved, or maybe they hadn’t, when they went from victims to perpetrators, and the next memories Ethan recalled were of him and Aiden greeting guests at Deucalion’s holiday party and then _being served_ by the terrorized staff. There had been quiet evenings together spent working on their motorcycles and listening to Christmas songs, private moments when they relived these same memories that Ethan had just relived by himself.

_It was a hell of a ride, Aid._

Next year Ethan would have Christmas memories that didn’t include Aiden.

“Are you going t’go on or what, mate?”

Ethan snapped out of his thoughts to find the people in front of him gone and the restroom door open, signaling its vacancy. The guy behind him was glaring and drumming his fingers on crossed arms. 

“I guess I don’t have any choice.”

The man gave him a confused look as he stepped out of line and returned to the table he was sharing with Jackson.

There were three full shot glasses lined up next to his beer when he sat down, and three more next to Jackson’s half-empty pint. 

“Time for shots.” Jackson lifted one and tapped the side with his fingertip. “They’re all ready to go.”

Jackson’s demeanor was light and carefree. To the other pub patrons he would have seemed like just another young guy off school for the holidays and having a rowdy night out with a buddy. Ethan knew better. Misery hung around Jackson’s shoulders like a thick winter coat. His eyes revealed a haunted depth that belied the shallow confidence in his tone. Whatever he had been pondering while Ethan was gone hadn’t been pleasant. 

Ethan flashed Jackson a superficial smile but didn’t hide the anguish in his own eyes as he clinked one of his little tumblers with Jackson’s. 

“Cheers,” Jackson said in a tone that bordered on sarcastic. 

Ethan smirked and laughed without humor. “Cheers.”

The first shot was followed immediately by the second and the third. Five minutes later Ethan was swallowing the last of his beer and wondering just how fucked up he was going to be when the toxin hit. Two hours later he was waking up on a public bus propped against Jackson’s shoulder with no recollection of how he had gotten there. Three hours later he was inexplicably curled up in bed with Jackson in an unfamiliar room with a decor that matched the rest of their flat.

“Tim Allen’s a fuckin’ com-middy genus.” Jackson brayed with laughter and waved his arm at a TV mounted to the wall across from his bed.

Ethan narrowed bleary eyes on the screen and suddenly remembered watching the first half of the movie. Then he remembered something else. “A genus is a taxonomic rank just above species and below family.”

“Um, okay, _genus._ ” Jackson flicked the side of Ethan’s head and they both dissolved into giggles.

By the end of the second movie they were sober and hungry so they trudged to the kitchen. Their post-inebriated state came with a residual closeness borne of the earlier intoxication, and Ethan automatically slung an arm around Jackson’s waist as they stood together eying the contents of the refrigerator. 

Jackson draped his hand over Ethan’s shoulder and leaned into him. “I could make us an omelet.”

Ethan turned his head and gave Jackson an easy smile. “Braggart.”

Jackson returned the smile, their faces only a few inches apart. He was somehow even more handsome at this range. The light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones accentuated the perfection of his features, a light shone in his deep green eyes that Ethan had never seen there before, and his scent was smooth and soft with contentment. 

“You want me to teach you?” 

Ethan nodded, pleased by the warmth pooling in his stomach and the desire to press his lips to Jackson’s. He still didn’t want sex, but it was nice getting turned on for a change. He took the spark of affection in his chest as another good sign.

“What?” Jackson’s lips pulled into a smirk.

“I like you and you’re hot.” 

Jackson shrugged and squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “Same.”

Ethan grinned and didn’t press Jackson on how that assessment fit into his professed sexuality. 

“I’ll make enough for both of us, that way when you ruin yours you’ll still have something to eat.”

“Thanks man.” Ethan patted Jackson’s back and let go as he bent to grab the eggs. Ethan wasn’t sensitive about his inability to cook. He had been mostly content to let Aiden make all their meals when they didn’t eat out, but...well if he could finally learn to cook, now seemed like a good time.

Fifteen minutes later, Ethan was scrapping eggs that were somehow both burnt and runny out of his skillet and into the trash can as Jackson plated the perfectly made omelets that he had produced. 

“That went better than I expected,” Ethan admitted, setting the charred skillet on the stove.

Jackson laughed and added sprigs of parsley from the spice rack.

_Show off._

“Yeah, a few more years and you might actually make something edible.”

“Now let’s not go and get over ambitious.” Ethan chuckled and reached into the cabinet to get glasses for the orange juice Jackson took out of the fridge. 

As they ate their midnight meals, Ethan recalled something from earlier that seemed significant in retrospect. 

“So how come your parents are in Manchester?”

Jackson’s fork clinked against his plate and the heaviness rolled back in across his shoulders. 

“So they don’t have to be near me.”

Ethan bit his lip and regretted bringing this topic back up. 

“I, uh...” Jackson sighed and set his half-finished food on the table, then leaned back across the couch. “I don’t really fit in at the school I go to now. So I thought... My parents and I haven’t been very close since I found out I was adopted, but we used to be when I was little. So I thought now was a good time to work on things.”

Ethan nodded. He could understand how being in a new country, isolated from his peers, would make Jackson want to work on his relationship with his parents.

“Telling them about...what I am...” Jackson picked at the leg of his pants. “Seemed important.”

“They didn’t take it very well.” Ethan didn’t pose it as a question. It was obvious.

“They tried. I think they could have handled the werewolf thing, but I made the mistake of telling them about being a kanima too.” Jackson’s voice was tight with emotion as he grabbed his orange juice from the table.

Ethan bumped Jackson’s leg with his own. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure my parents would have been ashamed of what I became too.”

Jackson took a swallow of his drink and tilted his head. “I thought you were a born wolf?”

“I am.”

“Then–”

“My parents were really good people. I wasn’t for awhile.” Ethan set his own half-finished meal on the table beside Jackson’s. “I was born a werewolf, but I became a monster.”

Jackson smiled sardonically and held out his glass. “Cheers.”

Ethan gave a bitter laugh and clinked it with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m planning to update on or shortly after Christmas with a chapter featuring their Christmas together. Then the fourth and final installment will be New Year’s themed and should be posted around that time. 
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated and Happy Holidays!


	3. Symbolic Gifts

A smile curled the corner of Ethan’s mouth as he stepped out of the _lift_ and heard piano music drifting down the hallway from their _flat._ (If there were British terms for _piano_ or _hallway,_ Ethan had yet to discover them.) The building’s walls were thick enough that the human residents of the other units wouldn’t have been disturbed, but the music was easily discernible to werewolf ears, and it provided Ethan with a measure of vindication. The piano in their living room had been a source of interest for Ethan since he had moved in, but when asked about it, Jackson had simply said it was his mother’s and that he didn’t play. That had been a lie, but Ethan hadn’t called him out on it at the time since they were just getting to know each other. He had brought it up again last night while they were eating their omelets, but Jackson had gotten snippy and once again insisted that he didn’t play. 

Ethan adjusted his shopping bags and tiptoed down the hallway. He eased his key into the lock and– 

“Aha!” He burst into the apartment, arm raised accusingly.

Jackson gasped and slammed his hands on the keys dramatically before rising to his feet and glaring. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Ethan snickered and dropped his keys in the bowl by the door. “Catching someone with his pants on fire.”

Jackson growled, anger seeping from his pores. “So you lied to me about how long you were going to be out just to try to embarrass me?”

“What? No.” Ethan set his bags on the floor and shrugged out of his coat, which he hung on the coat rack before crossing the room to join Jackson by the piano. “I wasn’t trying to catch you, and I didn’t lie. I finished my errands earlier than I expected. And why would you be embarrassed about playing the piano?”

“I don’t play!” Jackson folded his arms.

Ethan huffed in disbelief. “Dude, the jig is up. You play.”

“Well that was my first time.”

Ethan furrowed his brow and blinked at him. “Okay, even if I weren’t a werewolf I could tell you’re lying just by how well you were playing.”

Jackson’s scowl softened and some of the embarrassment in his scent dissipated. “You thought I played well?”

“Yeah absolutely!” Ethan patted Jackson’s shoulder and went all in on complimenting him. “Move over, Billy Joel, there’s a new Piano Man in town!”

“Oh well, I mean, I know I’m not _that_ good yet.” Jackson grinned and nodded. “But maybe someday.”

Ethan stifled a laugh. So this was Jackson being modest.

“The piano really is my mom’s, but I took some lessons when I was a kid. I decided to try to get back into it.”

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

“I’m rusty. I didn’t want anyone to hear me until I’ve mastered it.” Jackson sat down on the bench and gave Ethan a lopsided smile. “So you think I’ve mastered it?”

Ethan shrugged. “I only heard you for a little while from the hallway, but it sounded okay.”

“Okay?” Jackson’s face fell. “Never mind then.”

“Play something,” Ethan insisted, a hand on Jackson’s shoulder to stop him from getting up. 

“I do know one Christmas song, but you can’t laugh.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Ethan winked at him and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

Jackson took a long breath and started to play. Ethan recognized the song immediately.

“Seriously?” Ethan giggled.

“It’s my mom’s favorite,” Jackson answered over the music, missing a key. “I learned it to surprise her for Christmas one year when I was a kid.”

Ethan smiled at him. That was sweet. “Alright then. You can do the boy parts.”

“What?”

“I really can’t stay.” Ethan grinned at him.

Jackson hesitated, then crooned back, “But baby, it’s cold outside.”

“I've got to go away.” Ethan plopped down on the bench beside Jackson facing the opposite direction, and walked just his feet away.

“But baby, it’s cold outside.”

“This evening has been–”

“–Been hoping that you'd drop in.”

Warmth bloomed across Ethan’s cheeks at the way Jackson looked at him when he sang that line.

“So very nice,” Ethan sang, brushing his shoulder against Jackson’s.

They sang the next few lines with teasing looks and animated gestures on Ethan’s part until they reached the section of the song where Ethan queried, “Say, what's in this drink?”

Jackson broke character to answer, “Kanima venom. You’re staying one way or another.”

Ethan laughed. “I wish I knew how.”

“You’d need special glands in your fingers.”

“To break this spell.”

“Only time, baby.”

“I ought to say no, no, no.”

“Mind if I move in closer?” Jackson leaned against Ethan and beamed at him, missing a few keys in the process.

“At least I'm gonna say that I tried.”

“What's the sense in hurting my pride?”

“I think your pride’s invulnerable, Jackson.”

“Baby, don't hold out.”

“Ah, but it's cold outside,” they harmonized. 

Jackson laughed and quit playing as the note ended. He stood to leave, but Ethan spun around on the bench in one fluid motion and picked up where he had left off.

Jackson’s eyes widened. “You can play?”

“My sister taught me. She was an amazing musician.” Ethan smiled fondly at the memory. Despite being identical twins and literally sharing the same genes, Aiden somehow hadn’t gotten any of the ones for musical aptitude. Ethan and Christy were the only two in the family with any musical talent. Ethan was okay on the piano and could sing, but Christy could also play the flute and had been learning the guitar at the time of her murder.

“I've got to get home,” Jackson sang when Ethan replayed the same notes twice and gave him a pointed look.

“Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there.”

“Say, lend me your coat.” Jackson sailed across the room and playfully held out the arm of Ethan’s coat as if deciding whether or not it would fit. 

“It's up to your knees out there.” Ethan could barely get the words out between chuckles. 

“You've really been grand,” Jackson sang sweetly, returning to the piano.

“Thrill when you touch my hand.” Warmth crept down Ethan’s spine as Jackson stood behind him with his hands on Ethan’s shoulders.

“Why don't you see?” Was it Ethan’s imagination or had Jackson put extra feeling into the words.

“How can you do this thing to me?” Ethan really wanted to know because against all odds, a longing to have something more with Jackson was stirring inside him. 

“There's bound to be talk tomorrow.”

Ethan tried to be casual over the next lyrics but failed. “Think of my life-long sorrow.”

Jackson squeezed Ethan’s shoulders and his hand trailed across Ethan’s back as he sat down and they finished the song.

“–Oh, baby, it's cold outside.”

Once they were done, Ethan put away the things he’d bought on his shopping trip while Jackson ordered them something for lunch from a restaurant a few blocks away that delivered. They were sitting on the couch finishing their meal when Jackson’s phone rang. Before he picked it up, Ethan spied the display, which read _lobby._

“Hello.”

“There’s some delivery men ‘ere, sir. Say the ‘ave somethin’ for Mr. Steiner.”

“Who?”

Ethan laughed and bumped Jackson’s arm. “I’m Mr. Steiner.”

“Oh.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “Okay, send them up.”

“So I’m thinking if we move the credenza we can put it over there by the window.” Ethan gestured to the space he meant.

Jackson arched his brow. “Did I miss a conversation? What exactly is it you’re having delivered?”

“You’ll see,” Ethan answered with a laugh. Since Jackson hadn’t outright protested, he decided his suggested location was acceptable and went to the credenza to remove the vase of artificial flowers and other knickknacks that he suspected Jackson’s mother had selected before she left. “You want to give me a hand with this?” 

Jackson stood but didn’t move from his spot. “Not until you tell me what we’re getting.”

“Fine.” Ethan hefted the credenza up by himself and carried it across the room.

“Ethan! Put that down!”

Ethan chuckled and set it in the space behind the couch. It partially obstructed the walkway, but it was still navigable, and once Jackson calmed down they could move the couch and coffee table forward a few feet to make space.

“What if I don’t like whatever it is? You should have checked with me first.” Jackson’s tone was restrained, but his scent and body language indicated genuine anger.

“It’s okay,” Ethan assured him, catching his eye. “If you really hate it, we’ll get rid of it. Besides it’s only temporary.”

“Well what is it?!” Jackson shouted.

The doorbell rang and Ethan smirked at Jackson.

“Oh you’re unbearable!”

“Surprise!” Ethan declared as he flung the door open, revealing an unamused delivery man holding the top half of a Christmas tree.

“Where do you want it?” the man asked, short of breath.

“Over there by the window please.” Ethan pointed. 

A second delivery man toting the bottom half followed the first, and within a couple of minutes the tree was set up. Ethan signed for it and they left.

“Why did you get us a Christmas tree?” Jackson demanded, arms folded.

Ethan raised his hands as if it were obvious. “We didn’t have one.”

“We don’t have a French armoire either, and we’re managing just fine.”

“Do you want a French armoire?”

“No, and I didn’t want a Christmas tree either!” Jackson waved his hand in front of it. “Besides, it isn’t decorated. The least you could have done was get a pre-decorated one.”

“Oh really?” Ethan smirked at him. “Was that the least I could have done?”

“Well I mean, if you were going to insist on getting one.”

“This way we can go shopping for ornaments and decorate it together.”

Horror seized Jackson’s face. “Why would we do that?!”

“It’ll be fun.”

“Are you kidding me? You want to go shopping four days before Christmas and you think it’ll be _fun?_ ”

Ethan shrugged one shoulder. “I went shopping this morning and it was fine.”

“It wasn’t crowded?”

“It was, but I survived.” Ethan grabbed Jackson’s wrist and tugged him toward the door.

“Now?”

“Yes, now.” 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jackson grumbled as he put on his coat.

Ethan smiled to himself, pleased with how easy it had been to convince Jackson. It was clear that in addition to the trauma Jackson was working through as a result of his time as a kanima, he was also missing his parents and struggling to adjust to life in England, and while it was tempting to wallow in holiday despair with him, there was only so much venom laced-beer Ethan could drink and only so many depressing conversations he could have. Ethan would get better and go on with his life – as much as it hurt, he had never doubted that – but he wasn’t so sure about Jackson, and it was starting to feel like Ethan owed it to him to help. They were facing their personal crises together, so it wouldn’t have been right for Ethan to just leave Jackson in his misery. Besides, Ethan could admit that focusing some of his emotional energy on Jackson was a useful distraction from his own pain. If he could be that same distraction for Jackson, then he wanted to be.

* * *

Ethan awoke on Christmas morning to the sound of Jackson’s phone ringing in the living room. After a few moments Jackson answered it and Ethan rolled over to go back to sleep, but what he heard had him sitting up with a start.

“Hi Mom.”

The reply was quiet and Ethan hadn’t been focused on her voice yet. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.” Jackson’s tone was sarcastic, but there was an edge of pain to it that made Ethan angry at the woman on the other end of the line on Jackson’s behalf.

“Honey, we thought maybe you’d like to ride the train up to meet us. It takes about four hours but if you leave soon we can still have a late lunch together. We-we want you to stay until New Year’s.”

“Gee, thanks Mom.”

“We have quite a few gifts for you.”

“I don’t need anything.” Jackson’s response was stiff and controlled. Ethan was proud of him.

“Jackson...” The woman sighed. “We want to fix this.”

“Oh, but you can’t. There’s no cure.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant. We...can accept you the way you are, honey. We just need a second chance. Please?”

Jackson didn’t answer right away, and Ethan found himself studying Jackson’s pulse and breathing for clues about how he felt. 

“I can’t leave. I have a friend staying with me.”

“You have a friend?” She sounded so pleasantly surprised that Ethan almost laughed.

“Yeah, Mom, I have a friend.”

“Is he a lizard too?”

Jackson huffed. “He’s a werewolf, just a werewolf. I’m a werewolf- _kanima_ hybrid.”

“I’m delighted you have a friend who understands you!”

Ethan tilted his head and strained his senses, wishing he could get a read on her pulse or, ideally, her scent. It _sounded_ like she had meant what she said based on just her tone of voice.

“We got a Christmas tree,” Jackson mumbled.

“You did?!” She clapped her hands. “Oh how wonderful! You’ll have to send pictures.”

“Yeah okay.”

“Better yet, leave it up and I’ll come visit soon. Perhaps we can go to a steakhouse and you boys can get some rare meat!”

Jackson growled. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Ethan snickered. It _kind of_ worked like that.

“Dad wants to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Jackson’s heart stuttered with apprehension.

There was a muffled exchange on the other end of the line. Then a new voice spoke.

“Son.”

“Dad.”

“Son...Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“We made a mistake.” The man’s voice was clipped. “We didn’t handle your news the right way.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“This...well it wasn’t something we ever expected.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Jackson’s tone was sharp and bitter.

“You didn’t.” His voice rose with insistence. “I threw a great deal of money at researching your condition, and I found a lore expert.” He laughed. “Calls himself a druid of all things. It sounds outrageous, but he has a protege who can do the werewolf eyes and claws, so I think he’s authentic. He explained about kanimas.” There was a pause and his tone was gentle and apologetic when he continued. “I know that you didn’t kill those people while in control of your own faculties, Jackson. You aren’t guilty of anything but struggling with your sense of identity, which is something that quite a few young men go through...and that’s on your mother and me as much as you.”

“I still did it,” Jackson said quietly.

“You couldn’t help it, son,” he answered just as quietly.

Shame flushed Ethan’s cheeks as he realized he was eavesdropping on a private conversation and that, since it was going well, he no longer had the excuse of listening to protect Jackson. He set about getting ready for the day, concentrating his hearing on the sound of water moving through the pipes in the walls to distract himself. He was sitting on his bed scrolling through the junk email on his phone when Jackson knocked on his door.

“You awake?”

“No,” Ethan answered with a cheeky laugh.

“Asshole.” Jackson walked in and plopped down beside Ethan on the bed. “I just talked to my parents.”

Ethan feigned surprise and asked how the conversation had gone. He wanted to get Jackson’s assessment of the call. 

Jackson acted casual, but he was obviously in high spirits.

Ethan smiled at him and bumped his knee with his own. “Why don’t you go have Christmas dinner with them?”

Jackson arched his brow, but if he suspected Ethan had been listening in he didn’t press the issue. “I’m not just going to leave you alone on Christmas.”

Ethan’s chest tingled at the words and the way an embarrassed blush crept up Jackson’s neck. 

“But you could come with me. I haven’t ever been to their place, but I’m sure there’s plenty of room.”

Ethan frowned and cleared his throat. “No, uhm, that’s okay. But really, you go ahead.”

Despite his genuine happiness for Jackson, Ethan wasn’t in a good mood. The perpetual snarl of pain that had been in the pit of his stomach the past five weeks felt twice its normal size today. This was it. His actual first Christmas without Aiden, and it felt more significant than he had expected. 

Jackson’s hand landed on Ethan’s shoulder, and he didn’t quite make eye contact as he spoke. “I’m staying.”

Ethan nodded and took a ragged breath.

Jackson hesitated, then pulled Ethan in for a hug. It was over almost immediately, as though Jackson instantly regretted it, but it soothed the edges of Ethan’s pain snarl all the same.

“Come on, I know a sushi place that should be open.”

Ethan smiled. Aiden hated sushi, and he had mentioned that fact to Jackson when they’d had it for lunch a couple days ago. It would be nice to sit and reminisce about his brother later, but Ethan wanted to do that privately and on his own terms. He appreciated that their lunch wouldn’t come with any overwhelming, difficult-to-process memories.

“What?” Jackson asked.

“Nothing, I just like sushi is all.” 

“I know,” Jackson muttered.

When they returned home Jackson made them hot toddies, and Ethan sat on the couch staring at the tree and listening to Christmas music. With a sigh, he selected _Rockin Around the Christmas Tree_ and tried not to tear up. Jackson coughed when the song was over and walked into the room carrying their drinks. 

Ethan swiped at his eyes and fought a wave of self consciousness as he took the steaming beverage Jackson held out to him. “Laced?”

Jackson shrugged one shoulder. “Just a little to take the edge off.”

Ethan nodded and took a sip. It had an unusual flavor and a potent aroma.

“Like it?”

Ethan took a second sip and tilted his head. “Maybe?” He laughed. “I’ll let you know when I’ve finished.”

“So, I have something for you.”

Ethan looked up and grinned. “Really? I have something for you too.”

Surprise flitted across Jackson’s face. “Oh, what is it?”

Ethan chuckled and set his mug on the coffee table. “Hold on.” 

He jogged to his room and got the small wrapped gift from his bedside drawer. It was wrapped in blue paper with a snowman pattern and a silver bow. 

Ethan’s eyes widened as he returned to the living room to find that Jackson had produced a black ring box. They passed each other the presents, but Ethan waited for Jackson to open his first.

Jackson groaned as he tore away the paper to reveal an ornament in a plastic and cardboard package. “Seriously, Godzilla?”

Ethan raised his hands innocently and giggled. “They didn’t have a kanima. That was as close as I could get.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and set the ornament on the table beside their drinks. “I guess it’ll be an interesting addition to the tree next year.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to send me a picture.”

“Sure.” Jackson grabbed his mug and took a sip. “If you’re not around to see it.”

Ethan had no idea how to respond to that so he re-focused his attention on the ring box. It couldn’t really be a ring right? Jackson wouldn’t get him jewelry. That would be weird. He took a discreet breath, opened it, and– 

“What?” Ethan lifted the silver house key from the black velvet lining on which it sat. “What’s this go to?”

“The front door,” Jackson answered, giving Ethan a dull look like it should have been obvious.

“But I already have a key to the front door.”

“Yeah, that one’s yours. I took it off your keyring awhile ago when we got home.”

“Wait, you’re giving me my own key back?”

“Yeah.” Jackson seemed offended that Ethan wasn’t more appreciative.

“You do know how gifts work, right?”

“What do you mean?” Jackson huffed and folded his arms. “The last time I gave someone a key she really liked it.”

“Did she already have the key?”

“No.”

“See, that was the difference. You can’t just give people the same stuff they already have. That’s only like one step up from taking something and not giving it back.”

“It was supposed to be symbolic, dumbass.” He growled. “What I’m saying is that this doesn’t have to be a temporary thing.”

“Oh...”

“I like having you here.” Jackson’s words were barely audible.

“I like being here,” Ethan answered, not quite as quietly.

“So will you take the damn key?”

“I already had–” Ethan cut himself off and slid the key into his pocket. “Thank you, Jackson.”

Jackson growled again. “Merry Christmas.”

Ethan chuckled and grabbed his hot toddy. “Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a nice Christmas. The fourth and final installment will be New Year’s themed and should be posted around that time. 
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated and Happy Holidays!


	4. Champagne for My Real Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!

“I can’t believe you actually spent twenty minutes on your phone researching vases.” Jackson glared at Ethan as he dropped his keys in the bowl by the door.

Ethan laughed and followed him inside, his new purchase cradled against his chest. “I wanted to make sure I was getting a good deal.”

Jackson hung his coat on the rack and cast a scrutinizing gaze over Ethan. “You said you didn’t have to worry about money.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and hung his coat next to Jackson’s. “I don’t, but half the fun of antiquing is the bargain hunting.”

“That was meant to be _fun?_ ”

“We got a cool vase out of it!” Ethan held it up proudly.

“Yay.” There was a distinct dearth of enthusiasm in Jackson’s voice. “So where are you going to put it?”

Ethan shrugged. “Probably just on my dresser.”

Jackson grumbled and strolled to the credenza. He removed the generic vase of artificial flowers and gave Ethan an expectant look. “I had to put up with the buying process. I might as well get to see it.”

Ethan smiled and brushed against Jackson as he reached past him to situate the antique in its new home.

“I guess it is nicer than this one,” Jackson said as he set the other vase on the floor next to the credenza and the back of the couch.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure your mom just picked that up at a department store or out of a catalogue or something.” It was a nice enough vase, but it lacked the character of the one Ethan had bought. 

“Bet it didn’t take her twenty minutes to pick it out,” Jackson mumbled under his breath.

“Unh!” Ethan elbowed Jackson. “It was _your_ idea for us to go shopping.”

“Yeah, because you have like no possessions. It’s weird.”

“I’ve been moving around a lot. It was easier this way.” 

“Well now that you’re staying somewhere for awhile...” Jackson’s cheeks, already ruddy from the cold weather outside, darkened slightly as he took a seat on the arm of the couch. “But I assumed we were going to go shopping for regular stuff like clothes or electronics. I didn’t realize we were going to end up in a dusty old antique shop.”

“You know it’s a symbolic vase, right?” Ethan couldn’t keep the amused smirk off his face.

Jackson folded his arms and glared. “So you were getting even with me because you didn’t like your Christmas present?”

Ethan squeezed Jackson’s shoulder and caught his eye. “I _like_ my Christmas present. But this really is a symbolic vase. I can’t just toss it in my suitcase and hop on a plane. I’d have to have it shipped, or at least specially packed.” He leaned against the back of the couch and smirked at Jackson. “It means I’m staying awhile.”

“Cool.” Jackson’s face was a mask of indifference, but his scent belied a pleased excitement.

It was New Year’s Eve but, perhaps unsurprisingly, neither of them felt like going out to celebrate. That didn’t mean they were in bad moods. The atmosphere in the flat had improved considerably in the last week. Ethan and Jackson were spending more time together, practically all their waking hours, and whereas before they had spent time together in a ‘misery loves company’ kind of way, that had gradually shifted into a pleasant companionship. A comfortable bond had formed between them that Ethan hadn’t experienced with anyone since...well it was nice. They were their own mini-pack.

The turning point had been the visit from Jackson’s parents the day after Christmas. Ethan had been prepared to hate them, and he still resented what they had done to Jackson, but the relationship was healing and Jackson was the happiest Ethan had seen him. As a born wolf, Ethan didn’t have any personal concept of what it was like to come out to one’s family as a supernatural creature. He supposed it might be somewhat analogous to coming out as gay, but he hadn’t done that either. His family had just always seemed to know he was gay, and he had never hidden it. Regardless, he understood that big news about one’s identity was often met with surprise and an uncomfortable period of adjustment, and admittedly Jackson’s situation as a former homicidal kanima was more fraught than coming out as an ‘innocent’ werewolf.

The Whittemores were taking it slow. There was no talk of re-merging the households, but there was talk of visits both to and from London. Jackson’s parents had plenty of questions about werewolves and kanimas, but the topic of the trauma and guilt Jackson experienced as a result of his time under Matt’s and Gerard’s thrall wasn’t addressed. That was a good thing. Jackson had opened up to Ethan about those topics, but he clearly wasn’t ready to have those conversations with his parents yet. Jackson’s mother wanted the family to see a therapist. Ethan wasn’t sure how much good that would do since they wouldn’t be able to discuss the supernatural; however, the Whittemores certainly seemed to have their share of non-supernatural issues to work though, so perhaps it would help. In the meantime, Ethan found himself fielding questions from Jackson’s parents, David and Lana, about the supernatural. He had even given them his number so they could call or text him directly. He made a point of telling Jackson any time they contacted him, but he could appreciate how it might be easier for them to ask an outside source. Mostly he just appreciated that they were taking the effort to learn more about Jackson’s new life.

“So, why did we go to that antique shop?” Jackson asked a couple of hours later as they stood in the kitchen fixing a plate of hor d'oeuvres that would serve as their dinner that night. They had visited a fine food emporium the day before in preparation of the holiday and had selected an assortment of cheeses and crackers, an olive tapenade, caviar, smoked salmon prosciutto, crab cakes, and chocolate truffles for dessert. It had been Jackson’s idea, but Ethan had eagerly endorsed it. It reminded him of the formal parties Deucalion had been fond of throwing, which, occasional bloodshed aside, had generally been very pleasant affairs.

“I told you, I just felt like going antiquing.”

“No, I mean why _that_ shop?” Jackson frowned at the cluster of salmon prosciutto Ethan had placed on the platter. He rearranged it to his liking as he continued his line of questioning. “It was way across town. We must have passed thirty other antique shops on the way. Why that one?”

Ethan shifted the little bowl of tapenade just for the sake of brushing his wrist against Jackson’s. He liked that Jackson had noticed the specificity of their destination and asked him about it. “My nanny was an antiques dealer. She used to run that shop before she moved to the US.”

Jackson raised his brow and gave Ethan a thoughtful look. “I didn’t know you had a nanny.”

“Gretchen, I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned her.”

“Oh, I thought she was your maid.”

Ethan shrugged. “More of a nanny, but really just part of the family.” He tapped the caviar spoon against the rim of the dish and fought back a wave of emotion. “Keith and the traitors in our old pack killed her the same day they killed my parents and Christy...She wasn’t even a werewolf, just a kind, defenseless older lady.”

“Sorry man.” Jackson grazed Ethan’s forearm with his fingers as he reached for more crackers. When he spoke again his tone was light. “We had a maid back in Beacon Hills. Her name was Vicky. She was pretty hot.”

Ethan laughed, pushing aside the painful memories.

“So Gretchen was British then?” Jackson asked.

“Belgian actually. She moved to London, then immigrated to the US after she married. Her husband was from our hometown.”

“Mayfield?” Jackson asked with just a hint of uncertainty.

“Yeah, Mayfield.” Ethan smiled at him. Jackson was a good listener. He never seemed to forget the things Ethan told him about his life and personal history.

“So she went from antiques dealer to nanny?” Jackson asked, brows knitted together.

Ethan chuckled. “She and my mom were pretty close. Her husband, Frank, worked at our company. He had a heart attack and died while mom was pregnant with Christy. Mom invited her to live with us for awhile and the nanny thing just kinda happened.” He went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of champaign. “Anyway, Gretchen used to tell me and Aiden stories about her antique shop, so I wanted to see it.”

Jackson sighed and gave Ethan a reluctant smile. “I guess we can go back there sometime.”

“Thanks,” Ethan answered, peeling the foil off the neck of the bottle, and gripping the coiled tab of the wire cage. 

“Dude, don’t unscrew the muselet with the bottle pointed at you.”

“The what?”

“The muselet.” Jackson tugged the bottle out of Ethan’s hands. “That’s what this thing is called.” He tapped the wire enclosure over the cork. “Once you unscrew it the cork can pop off and hurt you.”

Ethan snickered and shoved at Jackson’s shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, but I think I could survive getting hit with a wine cork.”

Jackson gave him an evil grin and tipped the bottle at him. He dug his thumb under the cork and– 

Ethan caught the cork out of the air just as it was about to pelt him in the chest. “You ass!”

Jackson laughed and held the bottle over the sink as champaign fizzed out.

Ethan got the champaign flutes from the cabinet and set them on the counter by the sink so Jackson could pour.

“Hmm, I think the venom might mess up the bubbles.” Jackson tapped a clawed finger against the side of one of the glasses.

“I’m good,” Ethan answered, picking up the other flute. “Let’s just skip it tonight.”

Jackson nodded and they took their drinks and food out to the balcony along with an ice bucket for the remainder of the champaign. 

Ethan set the platter of food and his drink on their small wrought iron balcony table and cringed as he took a seat on the cushioned bench next to it. “It’s cold.”

“You wanna go back inside?” Jackson asked, hesitating to set his own drink down. He had already placed the ice bucket with the champaign under the table.

“Nah, I want to see the fireworks.” 

It was still a couple of hours until midnight, but according to their doorman there would be a fireworks display near Westminster Bridge later that would be visible from their balcony.

Jackson set his champaign flute on the table. “Hold on. I’ll go get our coats and scarves.”

“Thanks!” Ethan was in a wool sweater, but he would appreciate the extra layer. 

When Jackson returned with the coats a little while later, Ethan took his and laid it across his chest and lap like a blanket.

Jackson frowned at Ethan as he buttoned up his own coat. “Your back’ll get cold.”

“It’s fine.”

Jackson growled, looped his scarf around his neck a couple times, and tugged Ethan’s coat away from him. He held it up in front of Ethan. “Come on.”

Ethan chuckled and stood. He slid first one arm into the coat, then the other as Jackson held it for him, even straightening it over his shoulders once it was on. “Thanks.”

Jackson grunted and nodded at Ethan’s scarf where he had left it on the bench. “Do up your scarf. You want me to show you how to tie it?”

Ethan knew how to tie a scarf but he was so amused by Jackson’s offer that he passed it to him and stood still, chin lifted so Jackson would have room to work.

Jackson sighed and set about wrapping and tying the soft fabric around Ethan’s neck. “This one’s rubbish. If I had noticed I’d have gotten you a better one for Christmas.”

Ethan grinned at him. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten my super awesome key!”

Jackson smirked at him and tugged the material too tight.

“Hey!”

“You’re such a dick, Ethan.”

Ethan tilted his head, his jaw brushing against Jackson’s fingers. “I didn’t know you wanted to talk about my dick, Jackson.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and gently shoved at Ethan’s chest as he finished with the scarf. “I don’t know how Danny put up with you.”

“You want me to show you some of the things he liked about me?” Ethan asked, reclaiming his seat.

“Not this year.” Jackson winked at him, and surprised him by crowding into the space next to him on the bench rather than in one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the table.

“Wait a second, Mr. Sloppy,” Ethan said, stopping him as he reached for his drink.

“What?”

Ethan unwrapped the scarf from Jackson’s neck and set about retying it, their thighs pressed together as he worked.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to do that?”

“You didn’t ask.” Ethan gave him a cheeky grin. “Besides, it comes out better when someone else does it to you.”

“Very true,” Jackson answered, eyes sparkling.

“You have a really great jawline.”

“I know.” Jackson angled his head to better show it off.

Ethan grazed the back of his fingers against Jackson’s jaw as he finished tying the scarf. “Great cheekbones too,” he whispered, appreciating the handsome lines of Jackson’s face.

“I know,” Jackson whispered, holding still.

Ethan didn’t doubt that Jackson would let him touch his face, but their flirting was meant to be harmless and despite the cold air surrounding them, a dense warmth had settled deep in Ethan’s core that threatened to erupt into a dangerous fire if he didn’t stop now.

“Have you thought about school?” Jackson asked as they picked up their champaign flutes.

“Wasn’t top of my mind.”

“You have to go back.” Jackson scooped some tapinade onto a cracker.

“I really don’t.” Ethan sipped his drink. He wasn’t sure what he wanted out of life, much less whether or not it would require a high school or college degree.

“I think my parents can get you into my school.” Jackson took a bite of his cracker and swallowed before continuing. “I don’t know what your transcript’s like, but it’s probably good, right?”

“I missed almost as many classes as I went to, so...lotta incompletes.”

“You could take placement tests.” Jackson leaned into Ethan and spoke quietly. “I’m sure you’d qualify for some kind of emotional distress program. My dad’s people can take care of it.”

A dull ache throbbed in Ethan’s gut. The ache had been there all day, but not throbbing. Ethan was getting better. School would be...something to do, and Ethan could admit he didn’t really want to be away from Jackson the majority of the day, five days a week. 

“Okay.”

Jackson’s face lit up in a way Ethan was pretty sure was reserved only for the people in Jackson’s life that he was close with, people like Ethan.

They chatted and ate their hor d'oeuvres, hopping from one topic to the other. It was so light and fun that Ethan almost felt like he was on a date. As the hours slipped by they turned toward each other and shifted closer until Ethan’s knee was resting in Jackson’s lap, and Jackson’s arm was laid across Ethan’s shoulder. Fireworks had been popping in the background for the last twenty minutes. It was almost the New Year.

“I guess I won’t be kissing anyone at midnight,” Ethan said with a laugh as he watched the sky light up with a shower of gold and blue sparks.

“Do you want to?” Jackson asked, curling his finger into the tail of Ethan’s scarf.

“ _Right._ ” Ethan rolled his eyes. “New Year’s kisses aren’t something to joke about, Jackson.” He laughed, not meaning it. Of course they would joke about this.

“I’m serious.” A vulnerable look crossed Jackson’s face. “I’ll kiss you if you want.”

“I...um...” He shouldn’t have been surprised Jackson was willing to kiss him. It wasn’t really a big deal, and they had become close friends. The only problem was, it felt like it _would_ be a big deal to Ethan, and he couldn’t exactly explain that to Jackson without making things weird.

“Not if you want,” Jackson muttered with a shake of his head.

“What?”

“Well I mean, yeah, if you want.” Jackson barked out a sharp laugh. “I’m not going to, like, force myself on you obviously. But what I mean is... _I_ want to.”

“What?!”

“I’d like to kiss you.”

“But you’re–”

“Sitting with a really great guy who understands me in a way no one ever has before.” Jackson’s eyes were wide and his scent was full of anxiety, but his voice was strong and earnest.

“That doesn’t mean that–”

“I might not be straight.” Jackson shrugged and gave Ethan a familiar flirty smile. It was his words and the emotions behind them that weren’t familiar. “I...feel things.”

“I...feel things too.”

“Well yeah.” Jackson smirked at him. “I’m really hot and you’re gay. Of course you feel things.”

Ethan growled. He wanted to wipe that smirk right off Jackson’s face. It wasn’t quite midnight but– 

Jackson’s breath hitched as Ethan closed his mouth over Jackson’s lips. A flurry of percussive pops erupted and they all felt like they were in Ethan’s chest. The pops moved lower and became heavier as Jackson’s fingers snaked under his scarf and caressed his neck. He sighed and cupped the side of Jackson’s face, his thumb finally exploring those beautiful cheekbones. 

“Yep, I feel things,” Jackson whispered as the kiss ended, their foreheads still pressed together.

Ethan shifted closer, his knee sliding gently over Jackson’s lap. “I feel something too.”

Jackson arched his hips and his breath fluttered against Ethan’s mouth. “I think we’re going to have a really good year.”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

Fireworks exploded in the distance as Ethan’s tongue slipped between Jackson’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this story and the journey Ethan and Jackson went on! Feedback is always greatly appreciated!
> 
> It’s possible I might add a smut chapter next year around this time for the holidays. It would likely take place immediately after this kiss and feature their first time together. Let me know if that’s something you’d like to see, and if it is make sure to subscribe so you don’t miss it!


End file.
